Unworthy
by Anansay
Summary: [GSR] - Grissom figures out what needs to be done, but not until Sara shows him that she's not going to pine away for him.


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TITLE: Unworthy  
**AUTHOR**: Anansay  
**RATING:** PG  
**SUMMARY: **Grissom figures out what needs to be done, but not until Sara shows him that she's not going to pine away for him.   
**SPOILERS:** Up to and including Playing with Fire.  
**DISCLAIMER:** yadda yadda… don't own any of them… yadda yadda yadda… not mine… yadda yadda… 

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~*~

Unworthy

__

By Anansay  
October 13, 2003

"No, don't touch me," Sara said and shrugged his hand from her arm. She walked a few feet away and stopped. Eyes closed and body tense she could still feel him, in the room, near her. 

It seemed every time he entered a room, there was a subtle displacement in the air. Even without sound or sight, she knew when he was near and her body responded in its primal way with accelerated heart rhythms, shallow breathing and diminished mental capacity. She fought to control her reactions, to perform her job with clarity, but it was getting more and more difficult as time went on. And now that things were more out in the open, at least on her end, the difficulty level had changed dramatically. No longer could she just gaze at him covertly with head bent, knowing he'd be involved in his own examination of a crime scene. Now there was the knowledge that he was aware of her feelings and would probably catch her in her surreptitious behavior. That information both incited and chagrined her. Now he knew. And he knew. She'd crossed that line and opened herself up, took down her armour and bared her soul. And now he knew. 

Grissom dropped his hand and watched her walk away, a heavy feeling sinking in his chest. He saw her stop and stand there, unmoving. Her saw her shoulders raise and then fall, a deep breath. And then she bent down and her gloved hands began working on another area. Her curved back over her bent legs, hair hanging in her face, long graceful arms scoping out the area for any telltale sign of evidence. He swallowed, took a deep breath and sighed before turning to his own area. 

Grissom knew. He'd known for a long time, or at least suspected strongly. But there'd never been any incontrovertible evidence that could convince him. Time after time, he'd found opposing evidence denying his theory of any possible feelings she might have for him. 

Until that one fateful night. When she'd pointedly asked him out to dinner. Then he knew for sure. He hadn't been blind, just unwilling to see. And now he knew. 

That knowledge wasn't something he wholly welcomed in his life. Not now. Not after he'd refused her in that cold fashion that had gnawed at his gut for so long he thought he'd develop an ulcer for it. Every time he looked at her, he saw the results of his brash actions. He'd never wanted to hurt her like that. And yet her very being, her spunk, had forced him to retreat to the safety of his inner walls and lash out. 

To have him touch her, to have his hands on her, his skin against hers, wasn't something she was willing to let happen when it would remain in the sole domain of work. She could do her work just fine without that emotional whiplash. All he'd wanted to do was show her something but she'd been too absorbed in her own evidence gathering. So he'd touched her to get her attention. And her attention did come back to her, in a painful rush of realization that he was touching her, his fingers wrapping around her arm in a possessive manner. It had brought to mind in an instant all sorts of images that she'd preferred to keep to herself in those times alone at home. In a bid for self-preservation of her pride, she'd tensed and jerked away, uttering some words that she hoped he'd understand. Then she'd walked away, away from him and his touch that had sent reams of fire along her nerve endings. 

She chanced a look his way, only to find him hunched over his own area and busy. Her eyes locked onto his body and roamed over it, noting the bunching of his arm muscles as he flexed his hand to pinch a piece of evidence from the carpet fibers, the way his head tilted just so while he held it close to his face, the way his eyes squinted in concentration as his mind leafed through the myriad little folders of information stored in his cranium to possibly find what the material could be and how it could relate to the case at hand, the way his fingers pulled along the top of the bag to seal it. His gentle precision and focused acuity had always drawn her on a purely intellectual level, but it was the other more subtle details of his being that had found their way into her own that would cause her heart to flutter and her mind to draw momentary blanks in his presence. 

She pulled her attention to her own place and continued in her work. Whatever it was that he'd wanted obviously wasn't that important. 

~*~

Grissom found Sara in the layout room, body covered in the new dark blue lab coat, her hair in a ponytail by the base of her neck. On the lighted table was ordered much of what they'd gathered. Each CSI had their own unique way of organizing their date based on their own perception of each piece's meaning. No one could come in and immediately take over; there'd have to be observation and noting how each piece was handled in relation to the others before any sense could be made. 

Grissom watched from his discreet post by the door as her hand roamed over the pieces, going from one to the other but not touching any of them, as though she were trying to pick up some psychic vibe from them. Then her hand landed on one and she picked it up and held it to her face, looking at it this way and that before putting it back down in its spot and repeating the same sensing and picking of a piece. 

Within minutes, Sara'd begun to rearrange the pieces according to some inner sense of their meaning. At this moment, Grissom decided to join her. 

"How's it going?" he asked quietly, coming to stand beside her. He was aware that he chose a spot that might be considered a bit too close but he shrugged it off as something he'd done many times before and never been called on it, by anyone. 

"Fine," came her short answer. There wasn't any animosity in her voice, just the curtness of a mind busy on another matter. 

Grissom stood beside her and watched her work, trying to infer the object of her method. 

Sara dropped her hands to her side and allowed her eyes to travel over the pieces before bringing them to Grissom, eyebrows raised in silent questioning. 

He turned to her. "Sara-"

"Grissom, don't."

He blinked. "Don't what?"

Sara took a step away, putting a measured distance between them. "I need space. To work."

Grissom looked down at the space and then back up at Sara. "Of course," he said, his voice betraying his confusion. He watched as she began again to work the evidence, organizing and classifying the pieces. 

"Sara-"

"What?!" she said, her head spinning around to fix him with a hard glare. 

"Um," he swallowed, "what happened at the crime scene?"

Sara blinked. "What?" Her heart skipped a beat. 

Grissom dropped his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I mean, I wanted to show you something, and then you got upset. Why?"

Sara fought the paralysis that had taken over her body, the fear of revisiting a moment she'd rather forget. So many possible explanations filtered through her mind, some of them carrying more truth that others, none of them blatant lies. She sighed, leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Grissom, I can work with you. I can. I can be all professional and everything. But there are certain things that I cannot do... anymore. I can't flirt with you anymore. You can't take my arm and bring me where you want to go. You don't do it with Catherine, don't do it with me. I'm just a co-worker, right? So treat me like one. No more flirting. Just work. You crossed the line."

Grissom absorbed her words, allowing them to sink into his being. Their meaning not shrouded in any cutesy phrases. It mingled with his own sense of turmoil at their newfound level of relating. They'd come to a crossroad. She'd tried to pull him in one direction, but he'd resisted. So she'd gone in the other direction, expecting him to follow. Now he was trying to undo that decision. He looked away from her, not able to meet her direct gaze for very long. "I'm sorry, Sara." It was the only words that could make it out. And then he turned on his heel and left the room. 

Sara watched him leave, her face stone but her insides quivering with shock. Once again, very few words from him and no sense whatsoever. With a heavy sigh, she turned back to her work. 

~*~

Grissom sat at his desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, eyes focused lazily ahead. All outward appearance bespoke a man deep in thought, yet not wholly bothered by them. Just a deep contemplation of common matters. 

Upon closer inspection, one might notice the tightness of the lips, the laboured breathing, the whiteness of the knuckles, the lines of worry getting deeper around the eyes. Only someone who this Grissom as a good friend would notice these things. Someone who take the time to notice such things. 

"Bad day?" Catherine said, coming in to occupy a chair by his desk. She dropped herself into as though she belonged in it, throwing an arm over the back and fixing her boss and friend with a bold gaze. 

"Hmm." He didn't move. 

"You know, if something's bothering you, they say it's a good thing to talk about it."

"Yeah, I know." His hands came down to his desk, still entwined. He didn't look at her. 

"So?"

Finally he looked at her. "Catherine, thank you. But it's nothing."

"Really? And that's why you're sitting there staring off into space?"

"Catherine," his voice dropped to a mild warning tone, but she didn't heed it.

"Grissom, you got your hearing back. You grew a beard. You're smiling again. What else is wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

Grissom stared at Catherine. "Catherine, it's fine. It'll work itself out in time."

"Like your hearing?"

Grissom sighed. 

"You had to deal with that eventually. And you're going to have to deal with this eventually."

"What are you talking about, Catherine?"

Catherine smiled. "I have an idea."

"Well that's good."

"It's not going to go away. Deal with it. Do something." She stood and looked down at him. "Before it does go away, for good." She left him then, disappearing around the corner. 

Her last words echoed in his head. And he remembered the last time it almost 'went away'. He'd managed to keep it here, but things only stay around if they're needed, or wanted. 

Grissom knew he needed to deal with it. He knew he needed to utter the words. The words that could change his life, possibly making it better. This he knew, very well. For an intelligent man, it was easy to see. But seeing and knowing were far different from doing. Doing meant taking action and facing consequences. Consequences he didn't know if he was willing to face. Fear being the motivating factor behind his lack of action. 

And then another thought came to him. Someone else had taken action and was now accepting and living the consequences. Her bravery made him feel small and miniscule. Unworthy of her. He wondered if he'd ever be worthy of her. 

~*~

"I'm off." 

She stood in the hallway by his door, her coat over her arm, purse on her shoulder. There was no smile on her face and nothing in her eyes. She had only stopped a moment to inform him of her departure, common courtesy so he'd know where to find her if a case came up. 

He looked up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose making him look older than his years yet at the same time rather puerile, except for the beard on his face. He watched her nod her head almost imperceptibly and then turn and leave. Something tugged inside him and he practically lurched out of his chair. Dropping his glasses to his desk, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and scooted around his desk, jacket flying behind him in his haste. He called her name, but she didn't stop. Just kept on walking at a strong pace down the hall, her heels clicking on the floor, long legs talking long strides away from him, arms swinging easily by her side, her coat swinging in the breeze of her movement. 

He caught up to her just before she rounded another corner and grabbed her elbow, almost losing his balance in the process. "Wait."

She spun around, her eyes wide with surprise before they were shrouded over with a thin film of unconcern. "Yes?" She regarded him coolly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

He wondered briefly at her constant crossing of arms and something nudged at the edges of consciousness that he should know the meaning but he shrugged it off. "Um, what are you doing?" A swift mental quick caused him to flinch at his poor choice of words.

An eyebrow rose on her forehead and then they furrowed. "I'm going home. I told you that. Or maybe you just didn't listen." 

"Um, no. I heard you. I mean, uh, what are you doing _now, _I mean, before you go home?"

Her brows continued to meet on her forehead and she shifted her feet, leaning back to better study Grissom's odd behavior. He shuffled his own feet, out of his own sense of confusion. Surely there was a better way to do this sort of thing, he thought. I'm not that out of shape am I? was the second thought. 

Sara shook her head a bit. "I'm not doing anything. I'm tired. I'm going home to bed. Why? Is there a case?"

"No. No case. It's just that, um," he swallowed and looked down. The blood was racing through his body making it hum with a novel feeling of aliveness that was both welcome and at the same time caused jitters that affected his movements as well as his thinking. 

"If there's no case, then I'm off. Goodnight, Grissom." Sara turned and left, her heels once again signaling her departure. Grissom's head jerked up and a sense of loss seeped in, accompanied by a rising sense of panic. He couldn't let her leave. 

"Sara!" he called again. 

This time she stopped, but didn't turn around, waiting for him to catch up to her. He did and came around to face her. Her eyes rose slowly to meet his and he was struck by their lack of vitality. She suddenly looked so tired. 

"If you're not too tired, maybe we could catch breakfast, or something," he said, struggling to keep both his gaze and his voice steady. 

"Breakfast," she repeated, as though she were testing it out. She searched his eyes a moment. "I can't. I'm tired. I'm going home." She made to leave but his hand stopped her. 

"Listen, I know I can be an ass but, uh, I'd like to fix that so, if it's not too late, I'd like to try." 

Sara let out a long breath and closed her eyes. Her head fell forward. When she looked up again, it was not at him. She seemed to be searching the air for something. "Grissom," she started and then stopped, taking another deep breath and biting her lip. "I can't."

"Why not?" he pushed.

"Because..."

"Give me a chance, please. Let me show you that I can do it." He paused. "I... I _know_ what to do about this, Sara. I do."

She looked at him. "Do you?"

"Yes. I do." His voice was soft but he sounded so strong. She wanted to believe him. 

Sara allowed her thoughts to entertain her a moment before she pushed them roughly from her mind. "I'm tired Grissom. I'm tired of being pushed aside. I'm tired of hoping, for nothing. I don't know..."

Grissom touched her arm, his fingers trailing against her skin. She shivered in spite of herself. "Please," he said again. "Let me show you. Let me buy you breakfast. It's small but, it's a start. Right?" 

Sara sighed. Her heart screamed yes but her mind said no. She looked into his eyes and was suddenly speechless. There were things in his eyes that she'd never seen before, at least not for any longer than a second. Here they were, swimming in his eyes for her to see and enjoy. He was actually looking at her, like a man looks at a woman. His thumb had begun to draw lazy circles on the skin of her arm and she fought to keep her balance as her body gave in to him. 

"Breakfast," she repeated again. "And then, do we just go back to being co-workers again?"

"I was hoping that maybe we could, uh, go from there." 

"To where?"

"I don't know. I didn't think that far." 

"Grissom, don't play with me. I can't take it, okay? Tell me what you want."

Grissom swallowed. "I want... I want to see what might happen, if we go out to breakfast." He wanted to say so much more but there no words for him to use. Instead he stared at his hand on her arm, as his thumb continued its movements, at the goosebumps that were still there. He imagined what might happen in the future between them and tried to get that across in his touch to her. The circles grew in size and then his palm joined in and he was rubbing her arm, lightly caressing the skin. 

She looked down at his hand and then back at him. And she realized that the first step had already been made. They were still in the building where anyone might see them. He was touching her in a public place. He was offering himself to her, in a public place. And then she knew. 

"I'd like to see what happens too," she said quietly, a smile beginning to spread on her face. 

He mirrored her smile and his hand slid down her arm to take her hand in his, squeezing it lightly before letting it go. She walked passed him to the door and felt him following her outside. 

The sun was shining brightly, just beginning its trek across the clear blue sky. Not a cloud could be seen anywhere and the heat was just beginning to warm their skin. So many possibilities for such a beautiful day. 

~*~

Copyright Ó 2003 Anansay


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